Whatever The Case May Be
by virtual-toast
Summary: I'm not that brilliant at summaries... A one off thing I did for English class. Includes a bit from Whatever The Case May Be, then is continued on with a part of my own creation. No major ships... SKate if anything. Please R&R!


**A/N:** This is a piece I had to write for English. Being the Lost fangirl that I am, I couldn't think of anything else to write, and it ended up being three times longer than it was meant to be! I hope you guys enjoy it, I certainly enjoyed writing it... SKate forever!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lost, any of its characters, plots, storylines or anything affiliated. Steph, however, is (c) me.

* * *

Kate made as little noise as possible as she slipped through the cool, blue tarp that was the door to Sawyer's shelter. The light inside was a dim orange from the bonfires scattering the beach beyond the tarp. Kate surveyed the small, enclosed area – many bags and suitcases of innumerable shapes and sizes littered the makeshift walls, containing everything Sawyer had hoarded for himself since the crash; anything from sunscreen to alcohol, personal diaries to laptop computers. There was also a bed, made up of salvaged airplane seats, but Sawyer was sleeping soundly on the sand instead, lying on his side. And that was when Kate spotted what she'd been searching for in the first place – the Marshal's Halliburton case, wedged between Sawyer's knees.

The sleek silver object reflected the light as Kate assured herself that Sawyer was truly asleep, and then she slowly and carefully bent down and reached for the case's handle. She was about to pull it free when, suddenly, Sawyer reacted. He knocked the case out of Kate's hand, grabbed both of her wrists and wrapped his legs around hers, holding Kate in place. Kate attempted to pull free, but to no avail.

'Gotcha!' Sawyer teased.

'Get off of me,' Kate said, threateningly.

'Golly, hate to bicker about positions, Sweetheart,' Sawyer grinned back, looking Kate up and down, 'but I think you're the one on top.' He smiled even wider, and all Kate could do was glare at him in anger and frustration.

'Maybe you're not here for the case at all-' Sawyer started cheekily, but, when he eyed the case lying on the sand next to them, Kate caught him off-guard, and headbutted him sharply in the forehead, causing him to let go of her. Somehow, he still managed to get hold of the case before Kate.

'Ow, woman!' he complained, rubbing his forehead with his empty hand. 'If you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was say so!' They stared angrily at each other for a moment, until Sawyer grinned once more and added, 'You wanna try for it again?'

Kate looked at him with a mixture of frustration, incredulity and anger. 'Give it to me,' she warned through gritted teeth.

'No,' Sawyer smiled simply.

Kate, trying her hardest to keep her feelings from showing on her face, took one last angry look at Sawyer, then one last longing look at the case, then left.

* * *

Sawyer didn't sleep at all that night. There was no way Kate was going to steal the case from him while he slept. Hell, he had plenty of energy to stay awake, thanks to doing nothing but sitting around reading books all day. He wasn't going to join in the Commie share-fest Jack had going on in Cave Town if it killed him.

Instead, Sawyer sat in his shelter trying to pick the Halliburton's lock with two thin hairpins he'd found. He'd been at it for almost an hour, but hadn't achieved anything apart from almost losing one of the hairpins. He wasn't giving up, though; he'd successfully picked plenty of locks before, so why would this one be any different?

Lost in his thoughts and not giving the lock his full attention, Sawyer's fingers slipped and he dropped one of the hairpins into the sand again. 'Son of a bitch!'

'You're wasting your time, man.' Michael, the survivors' resident carpenter, stopped in front of Sawyer's shelter, dragging a pile of luggage up the beach. His son, Walt, was running behind him, picking up everything that had dropped accidentally. 'If you pick the lock on a Halliburton, I'll put you on my back and fly us to L.A.'

'Well, you'd better fin yourself a runway, daddy,' Sawyer shot him an annoyed look, ''cause there ain't a lock I can't pick.'

'What's he try'na do?' Hurley, a large young man, also carrying several suitcases, stopped behind Michael.

'Pick the lock on a Halliburton,' Michael informed him.

Hurley burst out laughing. 'Good luck!' he chuckled loudly, and continued up the beach, Sawyer glaring after him.

'The only way you're gonna open that lock is with pure force, man,' Michael told Sawyer. 'Impact velocity.'

'What the hell's that s'posed to mean?'

'You gotta hit it with something, hard, like, uh… a sledgehammer.' Michael picked up his load of suitcases again. 'Or the axe.' He then proceeded up the beach in Hurley's wake, Walt trailing behind him.

'I'll keep that in mind,' Sawyer shouted after him.

Not bothering to get up to look for the axe just yet, Sawyer located the dropped hairpin and continued to try and pick the lock.

'You weren't very nice to Kate last night.'

Sawyer jumped so much he lost both the hairpins this time. He looked to his left and saw Steph, a young, Australian girl who was also in the plane crash, leaning against one of his shelter's supports.

'Jesus, Cookie! You made me lose my pins!'

Steph smiled and slightly cocked her head sideways. 'Aw, did I scare you?'

'No,' Sawyer averted her gaze as Steph seated herself on his makeshift bed. 'You been eavesdroppin' on me, girl?'

'No, I was protecting you. You know the boars have been on the prowl lately.'

Sawyer smiled at Steph's use of his usual 'I was protecting you' excuse. 'Whadda ya want?'

'Well, Sayid's busy translating the crazy French chick's maps with Shannon, Kate's out foraging, I haven't seen Boone and Locke since yesterday, and I don't fancy hanging around Jack-'

'Don't blame ya for that, Cookie,' Sawyer chuckled. 'What's your point?'

'-_so_, I was wondering if you wanted to come for a walk in the jungle with me?' Steph finished, a tinge of colour entering her cheeks.

Sawyer considered it, looked down at the case in his lap, and then got to his feet. 'Alright.' He shoved the case between two suitcases stacked on top of each other and, seeing Steph watching him, added, 'Don't tell no-one.'

Steph put her hand on her chest and said, 'Cross my heart, hope to die, blah, blah, blah. Let's go.'

They headed off into the jungle and walked in silence for a while. Sawyer kept glancing at Steph out of the corner of his eye, and eventually, Steph asked, 'How's your arm?'

Sawyer placed his hand on the bandage covering the stab wound in his right arm, courtesy of Sayid. 'Ah, it's alright. Sure don't hurt as much as it used to.' Sawyer frowned as his thoughts strayed to Jack. After all, a stab wound meant antibiotics, which, in turn, meant Jack.

'It _sounded_ like it hurt a lot…' Steph commented, grimacing. Getting a confused look from Sawyer, she explained, 'I was near your shelter one time when Jack was treating it. You yelled pretty loud…'

'I didn't think it was that loud…' Sawyer said sheepishly, looking at his feet. Then he frowned again. 'Jack was prob'ly doin' it harder then he's s'posed to, anyway. We all know he hates me. Woulda let me die in the first place if Kate weren't there.' Sawyer had raised his voice now. 'He just burns me up! Paradin' around like someone died and made him king of the damn island! Seriously, he-'

Sawyer abruptly stopped talking. Something had moved and snapped a twig in the bushes ahead of them. He looked sideways at Steph.

'Yeah. I heard it.' They both eyed the bushed suspiciously.

Suddenly, the bushes began to rustle violently. Steph took a few steps backwards, when a tuft of white fur poked out above the foliage.

'It's another one,' Sawyer gasped in a worried tone as both he and Steph turned to run. They heard the creature burst out of the bushes and heard its thundering footsteps as it hurtled after them. The pair had a fair head start, but it would undoubtedly catch them before they reached the beach.

The beast let out a roar as Steph accidentally tripped on a tree root. Noticing her absence from his side, Sawyer skidded to a halt and spun around. Steph was on the ground, cowering from the huge beast that was now less than one hundred meters away from her, and gaining fast.

On impulse, Sawyer pulled his most trusted possession out of the back of his jeans and pointed it at the creature – he fired the gun five, six, seven times directly at its head.

With another almighty roar, the polar bear collapsed and landed in a heap inches from Steph's feet. It heaved its last breath as Steph, drenched in sweat, looked around at Sawyer, who was still pointing the gun at the enormous dead animal. With a look of mingled shock and relief, all Steph could utter was, 'Thanks.'


End file.
